


Leave everything you have there, for beasts of the field and birds of the air

by bereft_of_frogs



Series: three sisters [1]
Category: American Gods - Neil Gaiman, Norse Religion & Lore, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - American Gods Fusion, Canonical Character Death, Gabriel (Supernatural) is Loki, Gen, I never watched beyond season 5 oops, Loki as a patron of the arts, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Supernatural Season 1-5, Writer Chuck Shurley, but only for revenge, no really Gabriel is Loki (with permission)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 12:13:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15557481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bereft_of_frogs/pseuds/bereft_of_frogs
Summary: “I will help you,” He says finally. “I think there’s even a way to help us both. But you will have to agree to all of my terms, and listen to all that I say.” Loki grins, wide and bearing teeth. “A warning: It will be a rather pagan ritual, if that’s disagreeable to you.” Gabriel stiffens for a moment but then shakes his head.“I’ll do whatever.”[Picks up shortly after the events of American Gods. The New World versions of Loki and Odin have met their grim ends in their failed quest for power. Baldur ‘Shadow’ Moon is off in Iceland meeting the Old World Odin. And, in a convenient coincidence, an archangel is falling from grace. In other words, how Gabriel became Loki.]





	Leave everything you have there, for beasts of the field and birds of the air

**Author's Note:**

> A crossover based almost entirely off one line from a season 5 episode, when they go to a convention for the book series and Chuck announces they will begin publishing the book series "due to a wealthy Scandinavian investor." This episode comes right after "Changing Channels," the episode that unmasked Gabriel, so I thought "hey, what if the wealthy Scandinavian investor is in fact the real Loki, who's not happy that Gabriel got himself found out and may have started the apocalypse." And so he decides to start out his revenge by getting the books published, the whole sordid story exposed. 
> 
> Things got a little away from me: So here's Loki and Gabriel, in 3,000 words.
> 
> Title from Josh Tillman's "Three Sisters"
> 
> Note: I've only watched Supernatural Season 1-5, and only read the book for American Gods, so this is based (roughly) on those. You don't need to know a lot about American Gods to get this, and in fact it was almost based just on the mythology, but I was intrigued by the mechanics of the American Gods universe. (And maybe have more plans.) The main thing to know is that there are versions of the gods in the Old World, and the versions in the New World that were brought to America by immigration.

_“Gods die. And when they die, they are unmourned and unremembered.”_  
-Neil Gaiman, American Gods  
  
_“While I, Daniel, was watching the vision and trying to understand it, there before me stood one who looked like a man. And I heard a man’s voice from the Ulai calling, ‘Gabriel, tell this man the meaning of the vision. As he came near the place where I was standing, I was terrified and fell prostrate. ‘Son of man,’ he said to me. ‘understand that the vision concerns the time of the end.”_  
-Daniel 9: 15-17 (NIV)

 

* * *

  
  
The feeling wakes Loki from a dead sleep. It is a shrieking without sound, a mournful wail, grief and death and the dissolution of power. He presses a hand to his chest, probing the feeling until he tracks it to its source.  
    

The vision coalesces and he’s looking down at a body that looks much like himself, utterly still, with a trickle of blood dripping down his chin, stemming from the corner of his mouth. His hands, gnarled and twisted in his death throes, frame a gaping hole in his chest.  
    

Loki sighs, thousands of miles away, safe in his bed in Bergen.  
    

“Killed by Baldur, this time,” He muses aloud. “How fascinating. But so foolish.” His bed-mate stirs.  
    

“What is it?”  
    

“Nothing,” He says. He’s tempted to go now, to fly across the ocean to investigate the foolish scheme that had gotten him - an apparently many other gods - killed. But he allows himself to be pulled back under the blankets, falling back into a peaceful sleep.  
    

The next morning, he does go to North America. He stands in the field where the gods still pick themselves up, still lick wounds. None of them pay him any mind. That could be the invisibility spell, though.  
    

He finds his own corpse, stiff and cold where it lies.  
  

“You fool,” He says. “You couldn’t have left it alone. You couldn’t have just taken what we were given.”  
    

 _They were forgetting us_ , a voice whispers in his ear. Loki feels the breath on his ear, goosebumps raising on the back of his neck. But it is only in his own head. The New World Loki was beyond such physical manifestations. _They worship only the New, only the gods of technology, media. We would have perished_.  
    

“You did perish,” Loki reminds him. “And you will be reborn. Based on the prayers you squandered when you and the All-Father cooked up this scheme.” He feels something like regret emanating from the corpse.  
    

 _We will not be as strong_ , It whispers. _We will lose._  
    

“Well, I cannot help you. I must return to my home. You will remain here, in whatever form these Americans deign to give you. You will stay here, lost and far from home, and I hope you remember this pain when you are brought back alone, without the others and without any friends, all of whom are likely tired of your tricks by now.” He’s lying, partially. Of course, there was Baldur, even if he went by the name Shadow and was more human than god, and Odin and Thor could still be revived.  
    

But Loki had searched for evidence of Thor’s return after his suicide, and found nothing. He can feel a slight stirring of Odin’s power, but it is far in the North. The All-Father is licking his wounds above the arctic circle, paying no mind to his once partner. As usual, Odin fled from him when his presence was no longer convenient.  
    

Loki turns to go.  
    

 _Wait!_ The Voice cries. _Don’t leave me here!_ Loki barks a laugh.  
    

“I must go. You must remain. There is no third option.”  
   

_Please!_ Loki starts to walk away-  
    

And doubles over at the sudden spike of raw power, falling from the sky, not ten miles away.

  
***     
 

The Voice, the essence of his own New World spirit, dogs him as he follows the power to its source. The impact of the thing, whatever it was, had blown out the trees for two miles in a perfect circle.  
    

The thing is glowing bright blue light. It hurts Loki to look upon it, but even as he blocks his eyes, slinking closer, the light begins to fade, revealing a man. A nude man. He lies flat on his back, heaving in ragged breaths. Loki watches warily as the man, trembling, rises and takes in his surroundings. Loki draws a knife, holding it behind his back.  
    

The man’s eyes alight on Loki and he takes a startled step back, a ferocious look on his face.  
    

“Who are you?” He roars. Loki clicks his tongue.  
    

“Such violence,” He says. “You are the one who fell from the sky. I was merely walking, minding my own business. But I will tell you my name. I am Loki.”  
    

“Loki,” The man says, turning it over on his tongue. He snaps his fingers and fabric materializes, forming rough clothes around his naked form. “Why are you here?”  
    

“I was cleaning up a mess. You just missed the big show.”  
    

 _Ask him who he is,_ The Voice whispers frantically. _He feels odd._  
    

“It is polite, stranger,” Loki says. “To give your own name in turn, once one has introduced themselves.”  
    

“I am Gabriel.” Loki begins to laugh, a half hysterical keening.  
    

“You thought it was those new gods that would be your undoing,” He says to the Voice. “When it is the ones like him who pose the threat.” He relaxes his stance, moving the knife into view. Gabriel tenses, a blade forming in his own hand. Loki laughs.  
    

 _Don’t_ , the Voice hisses.  
    

“Don’t worry, I’ve no plans to attack you, Archangel.” He disappears the knife and shows his empty hands. “I’m not meant for this land at all. I merely came to investigate an…incident…and now I will return to my home across the seas and leave you to your business, whatever that may be.”  
    

“I don’t know that I have any business,” Gabriel says, sounding lost. Loki doesn’t want to get involved, he really doesn’t, but another part of him is intrigued. He really, really should go back to Norway, should leave well enough alone, leave the New World spirit to deal with this archangel…but then again, to see one of those self-righteous feathered bastards knocked down a peg…that would be delicious.  
    

“Oh?”  
    

“I’m not…I’m not interested in playing their games anymore. Michael, he’s out of control, what they’re planning…” He runs a hand through his hair. “I had to run, I had to fall.”  
    

“Hm. I understand. Really, I know you won’t believe me, but I understand your predicament. Some associates of mine just recently did something exceedingly foolish. Sometimes it’s best to just walk away.” The Voice roars in his ear in frustration. Gabriel paces in the clearing.  
    

“I have to run, they’ll be looking for me.” His eyes flash to Loki. “You could help me,” He says, a note of desperation creeping into his voice. Loki laughs.  
    

“I’m not planning on helping _myself_ , why should I help you?”  
    

“Because, it will stick it to Heaven and all their plans.” Gabriel says, taking a step forward. “And I would owe you a favor, a big favor, and that could be helpful.” The Voice is starting to get very annoying in his head, screaming at him for even considering helping the angel when he was going to leave himself here to rot. Honestly, the screaming might actually have been the tipping point.  
    

“I will help you,” He says finally. “I think there’s even a way to help us both. But you will have to agree to all of my terms, and listen to all that I say.” Loki grins, wide and bearing teeth. “A warning: It will be a rather pagan ritual, if that’s disagreeable to you.” Gabriel stiffens for a moment but then shakes his head.  
    

“I’ll do whatever.”  
    

“If you go to a field, not ten miles away,” Loki begins. “You will see the remains of a battle. An aborted battle. One that was orchestrated by the New World version of myself, in concert with Odin, All-Father. But their plan was thwarted. You will find in that battlefield, a corpse that looks very much like myself.” He has drawn the knife again and is tossing it between his hands, twirling it between his fingers as he talks. “I am dead, in this country. As is Odin. And Thor. Baldur still lives, but hardly knows himself, and last I heard he has fled to Iceland. I don’t know about the others, but there’s just enough life left in Odin and myself to resuscitate in this land. Just enough worship to bring us back.” Gabriel watches him warily, looking thoughtful. “What I’m offering you is _my_ position in North America.” There’s a pause.  
    

“So I would become you?”  
    

“In a sense. You would retain your own form and, for the most part, your own powers. We would swear a vow, to the deepest powers in the world, to bind us together. You would become the Loki of the New World. I would go back to the Old and we would part ways. What you do with your status here, that’s up to you. But I would ask that you at least make a passing attempt to maintain my reputation.” Gabriel smiles.  
    

“After two thousand years of toeing the line, I think causing a little trouble might be fun.”  
    

“It would keep you out of view of the other angels, as long as you don’t act foolishly and ruin the ruse. The most powerful - including Michael - might recognize you for who you are, but most minor angels and deities will see you as Loki and nothing more.”  
    

“What’s in this for you?” Gabriel asks. “Why would you give up your position here?”  
    

“It’s not _my_ position here, exactly. It’s complicated. I belong in Scandinavia. I do not belong here, in this forsaken country. A version of me does. A version of me that has been shouting in my ear for the better part of an hour.” The Voice is silent at that and Loki glowers. “I said this version could be brought back and that was not a lie. But I left out the _quality_ of that resurrection. The worship here is inconsistent, shaky. Any version of myself resurrected here would be, at best, severely weakened. At worst, naught more than a shade. But-”  
    

“By combining our powers…I see. That makes sense.”  
    

“Indeed. I would be free to go home and not have to think about this forsaken continent ever again. Now, are you agreeable?” Gabriel hesitates for another second, then two, but then nods.  
    

Loki takes the knife and opens a long slice along his palm.  
    

“Now you,” He says, handing the knife to Gabriel. The angel cuts open his hand with a grimace. Loki clasps their hands together and closes his eyes. He gathers himself, having to draw deep to gather the power to make the ritual work. He chants, in a tongue older than civilization, and the binding magic gathers around them.  
    

It tightens around them, and in the blink of an eye, the ritual is complete.  
    

 _Thank you_ , the ghostly Voice says as it dissolves, burned up in magic. Loki can feel a part of what he had been reabsorbed into his own soul, the rest finding its way into the bond, or into Gabriel.  
    

Gabriel who is now Loki.  
    

There is a change in the archangel already. It was nigh imperceptible, just a subtle shift. But he has been transformed.  
    

“Good luck,” Loki says. “Don’t disappoint me.”  
    

Then he departs.

***

  
He returns to the seafront apartment in Bergen very, very late that night. He had gone far, far to the north first, laying on his back on the cliffside and watching the lights dance across the sky, and thinking.  
    

Then he returns to a warm bed, the arms of a lover, and thinks no more of the angel.

***

He doesn’t have much cause to do so, in the years that follow. He occasionally glances across the ocean, pleased as he watches Gabriel wreak havoc on college students, businessmen, gullible tourists. He’s perfectly pleased with the angel-trickster-god’s antics and has no reason to worry.  
    

Until he’s not.  
    

He’s heard rumors about the coming apocalypse for some time. He ignores most of them, as do the other gods. Still, after a bout of particularly violent omens, he sends a strongly worded note across the ocean, warning the one who calls himself Loki to stay out of the fray, or else give up his name and powers. He doesn’t sign it. He doesn’t have to.  
    

Loki senses something’s gone seriously wrong as he’s walking on a street in Stockholm at midnight, with Thor. They’d been drinking. It had been quite a night for the two gods. They’d drunk the manna of worship by coaxing mortals into contests of strength and wit, respectively. They’d whisper their identities in the ears of drunk old men, and laugh at the shock on their faces when they proved it.  
    

They were going home when a twinge of disquietude stops Loki in his tracks. Thor has to double back, not even noticing his companion had halted until he was half a block away.  
    

“What is it?” He asks, wavering drunkenly on his feet. Loki drags him into an alley.  
    

“Make sure I’m not robbed,” He says as he closes his eyes. His spirit flees his physical form, flying across the ocean.  
    

He finds Gabriel with two others, wrapped up in an impressively detailed illusion. Flames rise up in a circle around Gabriel’s form.  
    

“Maybe you’ve always been an angel,” The shorter of the two men says. There’s a moment, just long enough for Loki’s rage to build, before Gabriel says, “well played, boys, well played.” And the illusion dissipates, leaving him standing in the burning circle, now in a broken down warehouse.  
    

“Gabriel, okay,” He finally admits and Loki could shriek with fury. “They call me Gabriel.” It’s over. The jig is up.  
    

Gabriel is saying something about ‘his own private witness protection,’ at least not mentioning Loki by name. Not like these two could reach him, all the way in Sweden. One of them asks him how his father felt when he “ran off and joined the pagans,” which Loki finds a fair question. He had wondered at how quickly the Archangel Gabriel had accepted paganism. Gabriel is quiet a moment before answer.  
    

“Daddy doesn’t say anything, about anything.” Interesting. It appears God of Abraham is more absent than the Christians had been letting on for the past few years.  
    

They begin talking about the apocalypse, the end of all things brought about by these foolish brothers - immortal and mortal alike.  
    

“It can’t be stopped…” Gabriel cries. Loki is disappointed. Very disappointed. He’d given him a gift, this new identity, his reputation and some of his powers, only for Gabriel to fall right back into the conflict he’d been running from. He thought that they’d been kindred spirits. Now he knew: he’d just been used. “I want it to be over, I just want it to be over.”  
    

And finally, most damning:  
    

“Why do you think I’ve always taken such an interest in you?” So Gabriel’d known. He’d colluded. He taken Loki’s power and thrown it back in his face. Used it to fuel the Christian apocalypse. Fury is not a strong enough word to describe what Loki is currently feeling.  
    

“It’s gonna end bloody for all of us. That’s just how it’s got to be.” Loki has seen enough, fleeing with a disembodied shriek back to his body in Stockholm.  
    

Thor holds him up, still wavering with drink.  
    

“What? What is it?” Loki trembles with rage.  
    

“I was a fool,” He spits. “I should never have trusted him!”  
  
    

It takes three days for his rage to calm. Thor leaves in a huff on the second, telling him he was going to Reykjavik to see Odin and to call him when he’d cooled off.  
    

On the third day, his rage turns cold and he starts to research.  
    

What he finds is a book series.  
    

By the time he’s read all of them, he feels no rage. He is still disappointed, but the burning fury that had coursed through him, that had made him turn on his furniture, on the walls, on his friend, has faded. He feels betrayed, but also somewhat amused. He likes this books, it turns out.  
    

Thor returns to Sweden. One day, they’re drinking, talking, and he tells him the whole tale, explains everything about his gift to Gabriel, his betrayal.  
    

“So what are you going to do for revenge?” Loki scoffs and takes another swig of his drink.  
    

“You’re encouraging my revenge? I thought you said you were tired of my rages.”  
    

“Tired of your rages, yes,” Thor says, running a hand through his auburn hair. “I’d never tire of your schemes. Odin was curious, when I told him. You’ll have to make it a good story, he’ll want to hear.”  
    

Loki purses his lips, thinking. His eyes alight on the books, the last of which lies open on the top of the stack. And he thinks. And then he grins.

***

The publishing house gets a phone call, with a very, very generous offer to fund the publication of their cult classic novel series _Supernatural_. The man on the other end of the line, with his soft, unplaceable but vaguely Scandinavian accent, explains he’s just a fan, a bachelor with no children and a large fortune to do with what he wished.  
    

The publication assistant thanks him profusely and they exchange information. When she hangs up, she immediately calls Chuck with the good news.  
    

At opening of the next business day, she finds a large amount of money (all stolen from a Swedish businessman who had not only conspired to evade taxes by hiding his fortune in shelters all across the world, but was rumored to have a sexual inclination to young children as well) deposited in their account, with a phone message from their mysterious Scandinavian benefactor promising additional funds should they need it.  
    

(A number of Swedish charities also find very large donations anonymously dropped on their doorsteps. The Swedish Police Authority receives a tip and a folder with a great deal of evidence against the businessman. The arresting officer thinks this is going to be quite a big get. He can see a promotion in his future. He thanks God for his good fortune, which is not quite correct, but good enough.)

*** 

Loki doesn’t intend to leave it at that. He _means_ to exact more precise, more cutting revenge on the archangel that he’d given his identity. This is just the start, just the beginning of the plans he has for the imposter.  
    

Plus, he wants to read the next book.  
    

But then, a few months later, it all falls to pieces.  
    

Gabriel-as-Loki is dead. Odin is dead. Baldur is dead.  
    

 

Word reaches them that there are other casualties, other gods, slaughtered by the one they call Lucifer.  
    

 

They all gather in Reykjavik and wait for the end. For the next fight.  
  
    

 

It’s all in a circle, Ragnarok is. The world ends, it begins again.  
  
    

 

This time, Loki’s almost ready for it.

  
  
  
  
_“Well I gotta ask: How old are you?_  
_As old as God. Maybe older. Neither of us can remember anymore. Life, death, chicken, egg - regardless, at the end, I’ll reap Him too._  
_God? You’ll reap God?_  
_Oh yes. God will die too, Dean._  
_Well, this is way above my pay grade._  
_Just a bit.”_  
-Supernatural; Season 5, Episode 21  
  
  
_Brothers may fight_  
_and fell each other,_  
_may sisters’ sons_  
_kinship stain;_  
_hard is in the home,_  
_whoredom severe;_  
_axe-age, sword-age,_  
_shields cloven,_  
_wind-age, wolf-age,_  
_ere the world falls;_  
_no men will_  
_each other spare._  
-Völuspá, verse 45

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr: https://bereft-of-frogs.tumblr.com/


End file.
